First Born
by Julia451
Summary: One-shot. A look at Mai's relationship with her brother Tom-Tom, from his birth, to Azula's test in Omashu, to their reunion in the headquarters of the New Ozai Society. Inspired by the awesome A: TLA comic "Rebound."


She was sitting on the window seat in her room, idly twirling a blade, gazing across the star-studded ocean that, somewhere, concealed the prince she hadn't seen for months, when a servant brought her the news: "You have a new little brother!"

Mai shrugged, sighed, said, "I wanted a sister," and turned back to the window.

Two days later, they brought word that her mother wished her to meet him today. Mai shrugged and sighed again and instantly got up and headed for the nursery, eager to get the ritual over with. She opened the door without knocking and saw two nurses fussing over the fussy baby, panicking that he would start crying any second and wake the mistress. It was mildly amusing. Mai watched them argue over whose turn it was to hold him before they both gave up trying to convince each other whose arms ached the most and put him in the cradle. One mumbled something about them needing more linen and ran out the doorway right past Mai as if for her life before the unlucky girl rocking the cradle could protest.

Mai sighed and shook her head, sorry that the show was over. She walked over to the cradle and stood staring at the baby wiggling inside it with her hands on her hips. She wondered if he was more interesting than the new vase her parents had bought last week but grew bored with the exercise before she could decide. Well, he seemed harmless enough. It was all the same to her whether there was one other person living in the house or not; new servants came and went without her notice, why should this be any different?

Mai had seen only a few babies in her life (that wasn't a nobleman's daughter's territory) and never a newborn this new; she'd never seen one this tiny. She wondered if that was why he seemed so helpless and fragile. It was hard to believe he would actually be as big as the rest of them some day. She'd also never noticed that babies were not only a different size but had a different shape and color. He looked so red and wrinkled and round and... cute. Yes, her mind had arrived at that adjective. She went further and decided he was much cuter than the stupid dolls her mother had bought her growing up. He wouldn't stay that way forever, of course. Mai wondered what he'd be like once he was older. Would he like throwing knives like her? Did he know the plans his parents were making for him already? What would he think of them? What was going on in that little head right now?

The persistent rocking of the cradle did nothing to calm him, and he finally burst into full blown wailing. The nurse gave up and leaned back against the wall in defeat. The thought of her mother coming in and venting at the servants, or, more likely, finding some way to blame Mai for the problem, was not pleasant. With another sigh of boredom, Mai reached down and scooped the baby into her arms, recalling how exuberantly Ty Lee had grilled her about the proper way to support an infant's head when her last sister was born. He continued to fuss but seemed a little calmer. Mai wondered if he was as bored as she was standing there doing nothing, and she started walking around the nursery with him. He seemed to like that. She was wondering if he'd like going somewhere else – down the hall, her room, the garden – when her mother stormed in.

Mai wasn't surprised that he started crying again as soon as her mother began screaming for the servants who were letting her daughter do their work. Someone took him from her arms, and her mother began demanding what in Agni's name Mai thought she was doing, didn't she know her place... Concluding she had overstayed her welcome, Mai waited patiently until the tirade was over, recited, "I'm sorry, Mother, it won't happen again," and left without another word. She walked back to her room, hoping the baby would continue to cause her mother as much trouble as possible – if he did that, Mai would consider him an ally. Her door was closed, a blade unsheathed, her eyes locked on a point on the opposite wall, and her arm poised to throw when she remembered there was another name for him – her brother.

Once Mai's mother fully recovered from the birth, life in her house went on as usual. True, her parents had more guests than usual, whom they brought to show off their new son and heir. Her father doubled his efforts to secure a promotion, and her mother made twice as many calls each day to cover more boasting territory. Mai enjoyed the relative freedom this resulted in for her, and she could see her parents enjoyed bragging about Tom-Tom – that was evidently all they expected to need to do. If her parents ever needed to be reminded of his existence, or if it was possible for his presence to interrupt the routine of the household, it was a sign the servants had failed in some inexcusable way; they were far too busy acquainting every single member of Fire Nation nobility with his perfection and securing his future legacy to be concerned with taking care of him.

Mai could already see that her brother was heading towards the exact same childhood she lived through – an endless stream of passing from nurses to nannies to tutors, showered with expensive treats, clothes, toys, and gifts along the way, in a world where causing his parents a moment's stress or embarrassment was the unforgivable crime. She thought of it with displeasure on the nights when her parents were both out and, to distract herself from dwelling on thoughts of her banished fiance, she wandered into the nursery and looked down at the sleeping baby. Standing there beside him almost made her feel as peaceful as he was. Whenever he started to stir, she picked him up before he could cry and alert the staff and walked about the house with him. She found she preferred his company to anyone else's in the house; he kept her from brooding over what she couldn't control without requiring her to wear a defensive mask.

"Thanks, Tom-Tom," she sometimes whispered when she tucked him back into bed. On one late night when she was particularly tired, she bent down and kissed his forehead for the first time. From then on, it became part of their ritual.

One day, she was in the middle of her daily trial of afternoon tea with her mother when the harried day nurse came in and begged their pardon but they simply couldn't get the young master to take his nap, he seemed so distressed, and they had no idea what to do. Mai rolled her eyes and mumbled, "Incompetence," under her breath as she stood up. Her mother readily joined her and became so intent on lecturing the intruder that she didn't notice that Mai left the room.

Mai marched into the nursery and liberated her screaming brother from his mob of attendants and dismissed them all; none of them dared question her. He calmed down as soon as he was in her arms and shortly fell asleep in her quiet embrace. It was gratifying to know he preferred her over everyone else, as well. Mai shushed her mother without looking up as soon as she heard the door open; she left them in peace.

A few hours later, Mai sat silently through a lecture on her proper place and the proper way to deal with servants. When it was over, she said flatly, "He wants me." Her mother groaned. Her father smiled in relief and said, "That's so sweet of you, dear. As long as you don't mind..." Her mother recovered and declared, "Now, don't go indulging her like that, dear. Mai needs to learn to think of others besides herself. It's high time she started paying attention to her little brother instead of leaving the whole burden to us." Mai just barely managed to stop the eye roll that would have doomed her cause.

From then on, as long as no important acquaintances were around to see her, Mai was free to take charge of Tom-Tom whenever she pleased. It soon became plain to everyone that his older sister was his favorite. He laughed and smiled only for her, cried when anyone else held him for too long, and went right to sleep when she rocked him. Mai enjoyed knowing someone needed her and liked her – it helped fill some of the hole that Zuko had left behind. It was an honor to have her brother trust her and gratifying to have yet another hobby that annoyed her mother but that, this time, she couldn't object to; Mai thought of the two of them as a team against a vapid, boring world.

Once Ty Lee ran away, if it hadn't been for Tom-Tom, Mai would have had no one except Azula, who doubled her demands on Mai's attention after the budding young acrobat left with the circus. Mai obeyed her mother's orders to stay on good terms with the princess. She knew Azula only wanted her around to flatter her and to confirm that she had no true feelings for the banished prince. Mai almost wished she could thank her mother for teaching her to hide her emotions so well. She could handle Azula; she could play the game where they pretended to be friends. It was genuine love and friendship that Mai didn't have much experience with. She loved her uncle, who had always been on her side, but she couldn't see him often. She loved Zuko, but she might never see him again. Tom-Tom was the only person she both wanted to see every day and could.

On the second anniversary of Zuko's banishment, Azula kept Mai at the palace longer than usual and gave her a particularly affectionate embrace when she dismissed her "dearest friend, like the sister I'll never have." The fact that Mai was able to maintain her composure in the face of _that_ performance frightened her. What if she was no longer simply pretending not to care? What if she really didn't... _couldn't_ care anymore? Maybe she really _was _no longer capable of feeling. When she arrived home, she waited for the wet nurse to leave her alone with her brother and decided to try saying, "I love you, Tom-Tom." It felt normal, natural, good to say. It was real. Where it came from and why, she didn't know, but nothing could make her ashamed of feeling it.

Azula only saw Mai with Tom-Tom once, when she came in the royal palanquin to fetch her one afternoon. Their parents weren't home, and Mai had taken him out in the garden and lost track of time. She told him goody-bye and apologized to the princess, but Azula didn't seem to mind. She stared at Mai on the ride to the palace with that calculating look that everyone feared to see directed at them. "You two seem very close," she said nonchalantly.

"My parents make me take care of him." Mai knew her voice was perfectly steady but wondered if she answered too fast – Azula's smile suggested she had. The princess, however, soon turned aside and began musing on how she would much rather have a little brother than an older brother, and Mai brushed it off as Azula idly amusing herself. She was nonetheless relieved to hear the next day that her father had been appointed Governor of a new colony in the Earth Kingdom and her family would be relocating there right away.

It was shortly after Mai had concluded that the restricted life of a Governor's daughter in a hostile Earth Kingdom colony was a change for the worse when Tom-Tom looked up at her one evening and gurgled, "Ma... ma..." Her father tried to salvage the situation by saying, "How sweet! He's trying to say 'Mai.' " Mai wasn't surprised that that didn't stop her mother from snatching Tom-Tom out of her arms; she didn't even have time to decide if the incident made her happy or not.

The next day found Mai's mother very outspoken on the need to adapt to the different standards of propriety in the colonies. From then on, hardly anyone else was ever seen holding her son. Mai didn't complain; she certainly couldn't object to her mother learning to act like a mother, however petty her motives. One thing her mother knew how to do was curry favor, and she could only do that with Tom-Tom by adopting the calm, quiet manner and habits he liked in Mai. She did it so thoroughly that Mai theorized her affection soon ceased to be an act. Maybe Tom-Tom would be a good influence on her. The new arrangement was good for both mother and son, Mai had to admit, and she accepted it because she wanted what was best for Tom-Tom, and because her mother was too smart to think she could curry favor with him by separating him from his sister entirely. Besides, Mai was too confident of her status as her brother's favorite to be jealous of anyone else or to fear he would forget how much she loved him.

She wished she hadn't been so obvious about it.

"_I'm sorry, but a thought just occurred to me. We're trading a two-year-old for a king... a powerful Earthbending king... it just doesn't seem like a fair trade, does it?"_

Mai had no one to blame but herself – she'd walked right into the trap with her eyes open. She had instantly sensed danger when Azula appointed her to handle the prisoner exchange but couldn't think of any response that wouldn't have been suspicious other than complying.

No matter how convincing Mai's act had always been, Azula was too shrewd to trust anyone too easily. Mai would have to prove that her loyalty lay unquestionably with the princess before she could earn that trust.

This was the test. _It just doesn't seem like a fair trade, does it, Mai? Your brother doesn't matter to you as much as pleasing me, does it? You could never care about anyone enough to risk defying me for their sake, could you? It's safe to recruit you to hunt my brother, your precious fiance, because __**nothing**__ could ever motivate you to disobey me, right? Well, prove it. Prove that you're willing to sacrifice the person I know you care about more than anyone else if I will it. Prove that you fear __**me**__ more than anything I can order you to do – nothing less will satisfy me. Prove it now!_

Mai had one second to size up the situation. Tom-Tom looked undoubtedly safer with the rebels than he would with Azula. She needed the princess' trust if she was going to protect Zuko. She had never expected the price to be so high.

Mai held onto one thought: that Azula never would have chosen to give her this test if Tom-Tom hadn't meant so much to her. It was the greatest validation of her love for her brother she could have asked for. It was that thought that kept her from hearing a voice say, "The deal's off," and from slapping Azula's smirk of victory off her face. She was wrong – the victory was all Mai's.

Mai was shocked, months later, to find that Zuko's new friends remembered Mai as a heartless, cold-blooded assassin for hire who was willing to sacrifice her own baby brother on Azula's orders – she hadn't realized how good her performance had been. If it hadn't been for the events at the Boiling Rock, Zuko never could have convinced them they could trust her. It mattered little to Mai. She didn't want their trust half as much as she wanted to know if she still had Tom-Tom's or if he had forgotten her.

Her parents had moved back to Capital City. They had made no secret of their loyalty to Ozai and hatred for Fire Lord Zuko and had no desire to see the daughter who betrayed them by loving him. Mai didn't press the issue. They never mentioned Tom-Tom in their letters; no doubt they would have emphasized how badly he needed her to try to convince her where her duty lay if there had been anything of that sort to emphasize. He must have forgotten her. Good – then he couldn't miss her. She didn't miss him, either; her foolish affection for him had been burned out by her ordeals under Azula. Why had she ever allowed herself to give into such weakness in the first place?

She got the answer the night her father lured her to the lair of his secret society. She knew Zuko had no shortage of enemies in the Fire Nation, but suddenly finding herself alone in a room full of them had been almost as shocking as finding her little brother there... calling her by name, running right into her arms without hesitation. He hadn't forgotten her. He _couldn't_ forget her any more than she could forget him.

Mai's parents' ability to misjudge her would never cease to amaze her. She didn't know which was more absurd – her father indoctrinating his three-year-old son into this madness, or bragging about it to her as if he didn't expect it to result in knives flying.

"_I didn't introduce you to the duties of Fire Nation citizenship early enough. I don't intend to make the same mistake with my son."_

_And I don't intend to let you get away with it,_ Mai silently vowed as she held him in her arms. If her father knew anything about duty, he wouldn't have expected Mai to react any other way that night. When she told her brother to hang on tight to her, she was simply obeying an irrevocable law of her soul, following her natural duty. That law, that duty, that irresistible love... she understood it at last – its nature and its source.

Something fierce, powerful, and unstoppable rose up in Mai that night. An irresistible instinct roared to life and burst forth, ready to face any danger, fight any battle, all risks and odds irrelevant. It was the instinct whose roots run deepest in the heart, unleashing a force that cannot be suppressed when what it values is threatened. It was the instinct that cries out against an unbearable loss, an unforgivable violation that it refuses to let happen_._

It was the instinct of the First Born.


End file.
